


What’s In a Burger?

by pete_za



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: AU where no one is a hockey player, Alternate Universe - Real World, M/M, but there still is a hell of a lot of hockey mentioned for there to be no hockey, copious amounts of bruins hate, derek nurse - mentioned, does this count as a coffee shop au?, they live up north so whatever anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 17:37:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9000277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pete_za/pseuds/pete_za
Summary: Jack Zimmermann runs the restaurant his parents gave him, and he never expected it to be anything less than a challenge.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a couple bulletpoints and a total Bob’s Burgers AU, but soon devloped into something a lot…deeper? with a lot more thought and structure put into it. So at best it’s a very very loose AU. You’ll see why. If you aren’t familiar with the show, no worries!

Bad Bob had never been a hockey star. Sure, like every good boy from Quebec, he played a pickup game of shinny with the boys every now and then, but down in Boston, he was only called Bad Bob because of the mean burger he could flip. He married the love of his life, Alicia, and with her help he was able to open up his dream restaurant. It was his very own burger joint in the heart of Boston, named Bob’s Burgers. Even though the Zimmermann’s restaurant had excellent food, it never gained the popularity Bob had once hoped for. They fell on hard times more often than not, but because it was Bob’s dream, he and his family had always ridden it out.

Bob and Alicia had one son, Jack, who they trained to take on the family business once he was of age. When the time came for them to retire, Jack took on the family restaurant with no fuss, just a halfhearted smile and a single “Yes, of course, Papa.” He knew his parents loved their small restaurant just like they would another son, and he knew how dependent they were on him to keep their life’s work from going under, and that pressure ate Jack alive.

Things at Bob’s went along smoothly in Jack’s first year, and he was hoping for a fruitful second year, until a little shit moved in next door.

* * *

The bell on the door jingled, and Jack poked his head through the kitchen window. It had been a slow day; he needed an excuse to fire the grill up at least once that afternoon.

Shitty jumped up from his slumped position over his reading to give an enthusiastic welcome, but before he could say the words “Hello and welcome to Bob’s Burgers!” the small blond man who had just walked in, accompanied by an even smaller woman, had lifted up his pair of large sunglasses, given the shop a quick disdainful sweep, quirked an eyebrow, and walked back out of the restaurant. It was a series of moments so fluid, so natural, so quick, that Jack and Shitty doubted it had even happened.

“Brah, who was that?” Shitty murmured, entranced after the pair had left.

Jack shrugged and turned the grill’s burner to the off position. “He wasn’t a regular, how am I supposed to know.”

Even though his parents were always in and out of the restaurant, Jack needed an extra hand. He took on help in the form of one of his closest friends from college, Shitty, who needed a little extra cash while he worked on his law degree.  It wasn’t like he did actual work; Jack just paid him whatever wages he could afford and Shitty was at Bob’s studying or waiting tables whenever he didn’t have class.

“What’d’ya think it was all about?” He was already flipping through his textbook as he spoke. Shitty knew Jack wouldn’t have a direct answer about the man who had just turned his nose up on his parent’s restaurant, their blood and sweat and tears, but the question had popped out anyway. Jack mumbled a gruff, “We’re closing early,” and when Shitty left an hour later, he sank to the linoleum floor and let his anxiety take over.

He’d let it win the battle this time.

 

His next encounter with the stranger was to be less disorienting than the first.

The last of the fallen leaves had died along with the grass and the first signs of frost had shown in the past week. It was Jack’s favorite time of year, hockey season. Even though he only played an average game in college, Jack was given the opportunity to go pro. He declined the offer in favor of living the life he had now. Sitting on his couch watching Habs games would be just as fulfilling as playing one, he assumed. Which is why he noticed the stark colors of a Bruins flag flying right next door to his father’s restaurant.

There was never much need for Jack to leave the comfort of Bob’s Burgers. His apartment and childhood home was right above the restaurant– his parents had moved out of the space years ago– and the only job he had ever known was a flight of stairs down. Deliveries were made through the back door and Shitty was really the only friend he had, so Jack only left the apartment to head over to the Stop & Shop, or go for a run around the block.

On this occasion, when he was in a good enough mood to take in his surroundings, something so vile stared him in his face that his stomach began to turn.

A Bruins flag. He couldn’t let himself be surprised, Boston  _ was  _ Bruins territory, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt any less when he saw it. And then he saw  _ it _ .

Where had his mind been these past couple months?

There was a new shop opened up next to his. What used to be an old unleased piece of property was now a bakery.  _ Bittle’s Bakery _ , it read in big letters, and in a smaller font under it,  _ fulfilling your basic kneads _ . He let himself grin at the play on words. But his new neighbor couldn’t have been all that great because they had a Bruins flag waving in the wind for all to see.

He tightened his gloved hand on the Stop & Shop bag and walked into the bakery. The bell tinkled and a drawling, sunny voice started up from the back of the shop.

“Hello, welcome to Bittle’s Bakery! What can I do for you today?” The man beamed at Jack, who started blankly at the artfully arranged display cases and freshly painted walls.

“Uh, hello. I’m Jack. Zimmermann. I, uh, my restaurant is next door. Bob’s Burgers.” He put his plastic bag down by his feet so he could shake hands with the man with the Southern accent.

“Well it’s nice to meet you! I’m Eric Bittle, this is my bakery.” Eric’s face heated under Jack’s gaze.

Jack was a little more than attractive, and that was something he had gotten used to over the years. Bittle was cute too, but the only reason Jack was staring so hard was because he looked awful familiar.

“I don’t really, uh, go out much. I just noticed your bakery today on the way back from the Stop & Shop.” He gestured to the bag at his feet.

“Well that’s perfectly understandable Mister Zimmermann!” Eric batted a nonchalant hand at Jack. “Anyways we’ve only been open for a solid month. The rest of the time me and Lardo had been fixin’ up the place. Sorry about the awful racket.”

_ That _ explained the construction noises he’d been hearing.

“Lardo?”

“Oh she’s my artistic director, but she’s just a glorified painter who I’ve taught to bake. Say ‘hey’ to Mister Zimmermann, Lardo!” he called into the kitchen.

“’Sup.” A familiar small, dark haired woman poked her head out of the kitchen door. 

Jack took a step back from Eric like he had the plague. “ _ Crisse _ .”

Eric Bittle was the nameless man from earlier in the year. Worst thing about it was that he seemed to be a decent person. A feeling similar to betrayal panged inside Jack’s chest.

“I have to go.” Jack picked up his Stop & Shop bag and walked out.

Eric’s pink blush turned red from embarrassment as he watched Jack practically flee from the bakery. He wrung his hands together and walked back into the kitchen where Lardo was piping buttercream onto a wedding cake.

“Why’d he run out like that Bits?” She glanced up from her crouch.

“I don’t know. Was it anything I said? Do you think I offended him somehow?” Bitty started to pace across the length of the room.

“I don’t want to sound like one of your favorite college employees, but,  _ yo, chill _ . He was kind of an awkward dude anyway.”

“Okay,” the pacing stopped, “I think I’m going to work on that pie recipe now.”

 

“Yeah, Shits, it was them from this summer. They own the bakery next door.”

“With that God-awful fucking Bruins flag?”

“…yes.”

“I’m not shocked at all, Jacky-boy, they root for the Bruins.”

Jack shrugged and stared into his untouched can of beer. Shitty spread his naked body out more on Jack’s living room couch.

“It’s, like, I don’t know. Eric–the owner– was really nice, but he made that nasty face at the restaurant, like he was too good for it. I don’t think he remembers seeing me, or even doing what he did. I’m not really sure what to do, or how to feel about him. But I know me and Mama and Papa worked too hard for that kind of expression.”

Shitty pulled his face away from the TV screen to look at his friend. “You’re getting a lot better about talking about your feelings.”

“Thanks.”

“But, brah, you know you don’t have to go out of your way to be friendly to the man. Just stick to what you feel comfortable doing.”

“Okay.”

“Good talk,” he patted Jack’s shoulder, “now let’s finish watching this game. The Pens are getting slaughtered and I want to see it all.”

The next day was a lot busier than usual, and Jack was glad his parents had already made plans to be there.

Jack and Bob prepared the food in the back, and Alicia and Shitty worked the front of the house. It was a perfect system. The Burger of the Day sign behind the counter had been changed from  _ Paranormal Jack-tivity  _ (It was October’s burger of the month and it came with pepper jack cheese. Jack didn’t get why it was so funny.) to the  _ Gobble It Up Before It’s Gone  _ (Jack came up with this name, exclusive to the first week in November. “We’re only serving it this week Shitty. It’s great.”)

It was now too busy for Jack too see every face that walked in. There were too many orders for him to focus on for that. That was why it took Shitty five minutes and a gentle nudge from Bob to get his attention.

“ _ Psst _ . Houston to Jack. Don’t look now, but look who’s sitting at the counter.” He followed Shitty’s side gaze to a familiar pair. Jack bristled from behind the grill. “And what the  _ fuck  _ Jack. You didn’t tell me the girl was pretty.”

“I didn’t really see her?”

“You’re in deep, brah, I just took their orders and they want whatever you recommend.”

From behind Shitty, Eric, sitting perkily at the counter, caught Jack’s eye and waved. Jack broke into a cold sweat.

“I can spit into their drinks if you want.”

“ _ Shitty _ ,” Jack hissed. The man in question laughed loudly and turned back around to wait on tables.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Jack emerged from his protective barrier called the kitchen door. He held two steaming plates with burgers and fries on them, and placed them carefully in front of Lardo and Eric.

Lardo looked impressed with the burger in front of her, Bittle just seemed delighted that Jack was in his vicinity again. Jack wasn’t sure how to feel about either of their expressions.

“So explain to me what you’ve brought us Mister Zimmermann.” Eric leaned on the counter and looked expectantly up at Jack.

Jack played with the thinning fabric of his apron before he spoke. “Last month we had a special  _ Gore-met _ burger. It’s a beef patty with jalapenos, boiled eggs, red lettuce, homemade pickles, and cheese.” But it was so much more than that; the toppings on the burger were arranged into a scary little face.

“I think it’s cute.” Lardo pulled out her phone and took a picture.

“Ooh, if you post that on Twitter tag me in it. Jack what’s your restaurant’s twitter handle.”

“Handle what?”

“…um, nevermind.”

“Enjoy.” Jack moved back to his fold.

“Wait, Jack, I want to ask you a question.” The baker spoke up, hand already resting in the bed of fries. With his free hand Eric beckoned him closer. “Whenever you’re not busy–like maybe Tuesday or something–do you think we…could…um.”

“It’s okay, I don’t bite, eh.” He made an attempt to calm Bittle’s nerves.

Eric took a breath, “Would you like to get dinner with me sometime?”

Suddenly, Jack felt horribly inadequate in his normal worn apron and sweat stained t-shirt. Did he even comb his hair today? Did he look sweaty?

“I…uh, I’m busy Bittle. Maybe next time?”

Eric bobs his head and bites his lip, averting his wide brown eyes to the plate of food before him. Shitty shot Jack a questioning look, but Jack wordlessly went back to where he belonged, behind the grill.

 

The following Tuesday, Jack found himself where he usually did, in his pajamas, on the couch, watching a WWII documentary on Netflix. This documentary in particular was almost four hours long, so Jack decided to call it a night halfway through.

He got off the couch, and shuffled sleepily into his bedroom when something caught the corner of his eye. Something was moving in his window. It was Eric. Jack had assumed that the blond man lived above the bakery, but he hadn’t had any conclusive evidence. Now he did. Eric who had been straightening a picture frame, felt Jack’s eyes on him and jumped.  From his position in the apartment, Jack pantomimed an ‘I’m sorry.’ Bittle shrugged, then held up a finger, and walked away from the window.

When he came back he pressed a piece of paper to the window that read:  _ thought you were busy tonight? _

Jack frowned, then gestured for Eric to meet him downstairs in his restaurant.

 

They sat at the counter together. Cups of coffee in hand, pajama clad, and silent. Jack felt the need to speak first, but Eric beat him to the punch.

“If you didn’t want to go on a date with me, all you had to say was no.”

Bittle never looked up from his hands. Jack frowned, “I’m sorry but–

“You’re not gay are you?” He sounded even more heartbroken this time.

“Actually, I am, but I was going to say sorry. What I did was rude.”

“Oh.”

“Look, I haven’t been entirely truthful.” Eric looked up at him, surprised, “I’m not sure if you remember the first time we met, but I do. You and Lardo walked straight through that door, then turned your noses up at the restaurant. It made me really upset that you’d do that to the place my parents built with everything penny they had. Despite meeting you again since then, I still wasn’t sure how to feel about you.”

“Oh my God, Jack,” he groaned, “I’m so sorry. I have no excuse for the way I acted. I judged you and the restaurant before I had even known taken a seat. I’m so sorry, I regret that.”

“It’s fine, I understand.”

“No!” Eric protested, “Where are my manners! My Moomaw raised me better than that, Jack. I need to make it up to you.”

“You can make it up to me by going out on a date.” Jack hardly believed the words that came out of his mouth.

“Oh, really Mister Zimmermann?” he drawled, “When?”

“Whenever you’re free, is Thursday a good day for you?”

“Dunno,” Eric took a complacent sip of coffee to hide his grin, “might be busy then.”

Jack laughed, “Well, we’ll see about that, eh.”

  
  



End file.
